


Exit Sign

by medeadea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, First Meetings, I'm sorry Akiteru, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medeadea/pseuds/medeadea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the slowest day of the week yet and Kei couldn’t hate that fact more. An empty café with zero customers or coworkers always made him ruminate and ponder his life choices and today was no exception.</p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>Kuroo and Akaashi enter Tsukkis café and Kuroo is a little shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exit Sign

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by all the coffee shop AUs on my dash from the Haikyuu!! AU week and music from a band I don't remember anymore, whoops...  
> (check it out here: haikyuuauweek.tumblr.com )
> 
> Anyway, believe me when I say that I love Akiteru and I'm sorry!
> 
> Beta-read by the lovely Marge, thank you so much!

It was the slowest day of the week yet and Kei couldn’t hate that fact more. An empty café with zero customers or coworkers always made him ruminate and ponder his life choices and today was no exception.

 

Kei tried to keep his mind busy by cleaning his counter repeatedly or shuffling about chairs that were already perfectly aligned to the small tables they were placed around.

 

It didn’t matter, as always.

 

He always saw his brother’s face, distorted in disgust, staring at him from specular coffee machine surfaces; his mother’s eyes filled with tears and begging him from shining tabletops.

 

The loss of his family had been sudden and brutal, leaving him with no home, no money and a hollow in his chest he would never be able to fill again, no matter how much time went by. He knew that because it had been two years by yesterday and nothing had changed until today.

 

Yes, he had a job and apartment far away from them now. Yes, he was able to hide his feelings behind a sneer carved into his face again, like he had done in his teenage years. But none of that mattered because his insides were still completely jumbled up and there was no way of betterment in sight. Being fucked senseless only helped while it lasted and left an additional taste of bitterness on his tongue.

 

Kei looked up when he heard the chime of the opening door and saw two tall young men enter and sit down at a table near the window. They both had pitch black, unruly hair and were far too good-looking to actually be good friends. People that similar never got along.

 

As he had guessed, they were arguing quietly while choosing what to drink and seemed agitated, broad shoulders tense and feet bobbing rapidly.

 

Kei wiped his counter down a last time, got his writing pad out and walked over to their table.

 

“I can’t believe he said that, I wanna hit him over with a chair. Or better with a table…” he heard the taller one say with furrowed brows and hatred in his eyes.

 

Kei cleared his throat and asked in a deliberately neutral tone, “What can I get for you?”

 

The one that hadn’t spoken before, with the shorter hair and smoother face, answered first, smiling lightly at Kei.

 

“I’d like a milk coffee, please.”

 

“Mhm, and for you?” Kei asked his companion with the steely eyes and sharp mouth.

 

“Latte macchiato, please.”

 

“Alright, just a second,” Kei answered and shuffled back behind the counter to the coffee machine.

  
While preparing their orders with practiced movements he tried to concentrate on the both of them and the snippet of conversation he had overheard.

 

What kind of comment could warrant a table to the face?

 

Or was the guy just prone to violence? The way he looked and held himself rather spoke for the opposite, but looks could be misleading. He walked a bit slouched and mussed his disaster of a hairstyle with his hands even more, but that wasn’t necessarily an indication of an easygoing personality. Or maybe he just needed the appropriate occasion to show his ugly side, like Akiteru had.

 

Maybe they were even talking about the same situation and being gay resulted in more or less metaphorical tables to the face.

 

NO.

 

He was doing it again; projecting his own thoughts upon other people.

 

Listening to unsuspecting customers was supposed to distract him from the abyss that was his mind, not bring him back down. Being gay did _not_ justify flying chairs or tables. He knew that. And _nothing_ about that guy seemed in any way like Akiteru.

 

Just like that other guy. Nothing like his brother.

 

He didn’t look as laid-back as his companion, rather aloof even—only slightly wrinkled brows over heavy-lidded soft eyes and thin lips pulled into a tiny frown.

 

What kind of problem could such a guy even have? Every door opened in the face of a beauty like him, that much applied to men just as much as to women. Maybe he was exceptionally stupid, who knew. Liking café latte wasn’t exactly a telling preference about intelligence.

 

Having finished their orders, Kei put the cups on saucers with sugar packets and spoons and made his way to their table.

 

On his way over he caught the eye of the smaller one and immediately scrapped the theory of that guy being stupid. His eyes may have been soft and dark, but they were easily taking in everything about his surroundings and left an impression of prudence that Kei was unable to shake off.

 

When Kei reached their table he was just answering his agitated companion in a gentle but insistent tone.

 

“There is nothing wrong with my self-image. I’m totally fine, Kuroo-san.”

 

Kei put the cups down on the table and slid them towards their owners, leaving the bill in the middle between them.

 

Mister Awful Hairdo jerked at his sudden appearance but then smiled at him crookedly. Just the kind of smirk Kei had expected of him.

 

“Oh, hey, you come at the perfect time. Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Sure.”

 

His smirk widening to something that looked almost like a leer, the guy asked, “Akaashi here has some image issues, I need an outsider’s opinion. You’d totally fuck him, right?”

 

Kei lifted both his brows. Of course it was _that_ kind of question. Some assholes got off on making innocent coffee shop employees uncomfortable on boring wednesday afternoons. Unfortunately for him, Kei had been working here long enough to know exactly how to confront these people and countered with a honest answer.

 

“I’d rather be fucked _by_ him, but… yeah.”

 

He had let his brows fall and given ‘Akaashi here’ a demonstrative once-over before looking back and dignifying the oh-so- _witty_ asshole -- who was now speechlessly gaping up at him -- with a smirk of his own.

 

“Was that it?”

 

“Yes, thank you,” the asshole’s companion affirmed with pinched lips and a sparkle in his eyes, obviously trying to suppress a grin himself.

 

Kei turned around and strode back behind his counter attempting to get his face in check.

 

Getting back at assholes was _definitely_ one of his favourite hobbies, especially because he had literally only done what was asked of him and couldn’t be reprimanded in the slightest. Working in a coffee shop as long as he had, had taught him to savour those little victories.

 

He laughed to himself for a while longer, bumbling about distractedly, and wondered what a guy like ‘Akaashi’ could have image issues about. If he really had any.

 

Kei’s good mood lasted until a fairly large group of old women entered the shop and spread around several tables, moving them together and chatting over the scraping noises.

 

He stepped out from behind his counter and dutifully helped them, quietly seething because putting the heavy tables back to their places later was one of the most tedious parts of the job.

 

When he was finally done taking and preparing their orders, the young guys had disappeared already, leaving the money with a decent tip behind on the table.

 

Kei took the bill that had been folded to form a ship from the table and turned it in his hands. On one side, in haphazard but still legible writing, stood the name ‘Akaashi’ and a phone number.

  
He smirked and pocketed it. That had been easy and just the way he liked it. Quick to decide and quick to fuck on top of being hot; that Akaashi was just his kind of guy.


End file.
